The office was a quiet cave of polished mahogany and cold blue light. Outside, the mist had turned into a light rain that was making the dirty snowbanks melt away. It spattered against the floor-to-ceiling windows, trying to find a way in, but he preferred his environments sealed. Controlled.
He sat in the high-backed leather chair, the glow from the twin monitors reflecting in his eyes. To the rest of the town, he was the predatory developer, the man who wanted the corner lot for its square footage. To Myra Higgins, he was the shadow of a high school grudge.
They were both wrong.
He reached into his drawer and pulled out an old-fashioned jewelry box. The kind that opened with a key. The key was dangling from the keyring he had forged from his high school senior class ring. The keys jin
